Drummer Ryder Chord has been living half a life since he was sixteen when a brutal tragedy struck, and he and his best friend hit the road.
Ryder, desperate to forget, throws himself into touring life and writing music. When Lexi joins the band, Ryder’s life becomes almost tolerable. Until one day when the rest of the band isn’t there and Ryder and Lexi have to share a hotel room: with only one bed.
Rule number one of band-dom: You never sleep with anyone in the band. Rule number one of bro code: You never sleep with anyone’s sister. You DEFINITELY never sleep with your best friend’s little sister. Rule number it’s so obvious it’s a count even a drummer can keep: You Never, EVER, sleep with your best friend’s little sister when she’s in the band…and he is too.
** “A moving, funny, white-hot sexy romp that fans of Lauren Blakely, Nora Roberts, and Janet Evanovich will love.” – Smart Woman’s Steamy Romance Reviews
Around 2:19 AM I finally fall asleep. At around 3:30 there’s a soft knock on my door. I’m fully awake in an instant. I jump up, run to the door and throw it open.
“Lexi, what’s wrong!” I put my hands on the side of her face. I search her expression, which seems, I don’t know, slightly scared. Which makes me worried.
“Lexi, what is it?” I ask.
But she doesn’t say anything. She just stares up at me. She’s wearing a short, silk burgundy-colored robe I’ve never seen before.
“Lexi, what is it?” I ask again. “What do you need?”
“You,” she says.
I blink. I stare down at her, and my brain refuses to understand. My tongue plasters to the roof of my mouth. Lexi reaches up and touches my biceps, and the spell that has me frozen is temporarily broken.
“Ryder? Ryder, say something.”
I blink again.
“Lexi. I’m not sure what you mean. I’m right here.”
Her voice is soft. So soft I have to bend down a little to hear her. I’ve been playing drums long enough that I have a bit of hearing loss.
“I haven’t been able to sleep since Detroit.”
I straighten up. “Sure you have,” I say like an idiot. “You don’t toss and turn.” I think of myself, the hours I spend staring at the ceiling of my own bunk.
“But I don’t really sleep, not well.” Lexi takes a step closer, and the smell of bursting orange blossoms wafts up.
“Ryder…” she says softly.
She opens the sash of her robe, and it reveals a mostly see-through, burgundy-tinted babydoll nightgown that barely reaches the top of her thighs.
I groan. “Lexi, we can’t.”
She closes that last inch between us and plants a tiny kiss on my chest. The barest of touches.
And I snap.
I grab her, haul her up my body, and smash our lips together. All the pent-up need and want I’ve been so good at keeping caged in, tethered, is pulsing out into her. I fist her hair, tilt her head, and plunder her mouth.
God. She tastes so good. Incredible. God. Fuck.
“Lex…” I say as I break away.
“More,” she breathes.
“We shouldn’t,” I manage.
“Right,” she says, but then she kisses me again, and fuck, I don’t give a damn, because, yes, this is Lexi, and all I can think about is tasting her again, more, yes. How soft her tongue is and how out of control I am. I carry her to the bed and part of me tries to reel it in, take it slow, but I don’t want to. Not even a little.
I want to devour her. Every single inch.
Lexi. My Lexi.
The blood is pounding in my ears. I can’t think, everything becomes a haze of pure lust, heat, a throbbing sound of need, the contrast between hard and soft, and the perfection of our rhythm together.
I manage to break for a second. “Lex, are you sure?”
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